A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 659 Arrangements
Azkaban stands atop a solitary reef in the North Sea, casting a massive shadow on the water under the setting sun.

The cold, biting sea breeze, carrying salty, fishy vapor, howled and seeped into the dark buildings.

Rahuan, the Gringotts branch manager stationed here, was anxiously sorting through thick ledgers in his office, which was relatively dry but resembled a prison cell.

There isn't much business here to begin with, but the accounts still need to be made to look perfect.

The pull ring dared not let its guard down, fearing that it would be found an excuse to stay there forever, and each ledger was always made almost perfect in the end.

As he snapped the brass latch on the last ledger shut, his long, pointed ears keenly caught the unusual noise coming from the entrance.

The sound was neither the heavy, panicked footsteps of ordinary Ministry of Magic staff coming to do business, nor the desperate cries of prisoners, but an overly steady, overly unhurried gait, so calm and composed that it seemed out of place with the oppressive and chaotic surroundings, as ordinary as a wanderer returning home.

The pull tab's heart was pounding so hard it almost jumped out of its throat.

Years of experience had cruelly warned him that visitors appearing in Azkaban at this time were no ordinary people and often brought misfortune and trouble.

The less trouble, the better.

Without hesitation, La Huan abandoned the idea of ​​leaving get off work immediately, went over, gently closed the door, locked it, and then pushed the tea cabinet behind him.

There have been far too many outsiders coming to Azkaban lately, which is unusual. He doesn't want to get involved in any trouble related to Azkaban affairs, which would mean endless questioning from the Ministry of Magic and even the risk of endangering his own safety.

Time crawled slowly in the suffocating silence deep within the fortress, each second stretched out infinitely.

Finally, it was time to officially leave work. I carefully opened the door with the pull ring, peeked out, and nervously turned my head and eyes to observe my surroundings.

The dimly lit corridor was deserted, save for the crackling of torches and the chilling, heart-wrenching howls that echoed from afar—the Dementors were having a weekend feast.

He instinctively pulled his slightly oversized Gringotts-style cloak tighter around himself, as if it could bring him a tiny bit of warmth. Then, he tiptoed, almost touching the cold wall, and ran quickly toward the heavy iron gate that symbolized freedom at the exit.

However, just a few steps away from freedom, a chilling, piercing gaze suddenly descended upon him, like a venomous snake coiling around his body.

He abruptly stopped, his short body stiffly turning to the back.

The corridor was as deep and dark as a beast's esophagus, with overlapping shadows. Apart from his own pounding heartbeat and suppressed breathing, there was nothing there.

But the feeling of being locked on by something invisible was crystal clear, cold and sticky, as if countless eyes were piercing through the shadows from the dark corners, staring intently at him.

Pulling the ring made his throat dry, and a chill ran from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

He dared not linger for another second, and almost tumbled and staggered as he rushed toward the exit that was just inches away.

Just as his icy fingers were about to touch the cold door, a faint rustling sound of fabric rubbing came from a darker side passage that seemed to lead straight to hell.

He was terrified and instinctively shrank into the heavy shadow of the archway next to him, holding his breath so hard that he didn't even notice the cold, sharp edges of the stone carvings hurting the back of his head.

Two Dementors were floating silently between them, with a lifeless man whose limbs hung limply like a broken puppet. This was none other than Stogee Podmore, the wizard who had been brought in by the Aurors just the previous afternoon.

Instead of heading towards the regular prison area, the Dementors turned towards a passage they had only heard of but never dared to venture into—a dark corridor leading to the most terrifying and secretive prison in Azkaban, according to legend.

It is said that even Dementors are too lazy to draw upon the meager pleasures of the prisoners locked there. In absolute, eternal solitude and darkness, the prisoners will rapidly and completely collapse, their spirits disintegrating, ultimately becoming empty shells.

As he watched the three figures disappear silently into the all-consuming darkness at the end of the passage, he couldn't help but shiver violently, his small body trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind.

He dared not imagine, nor did he want to know, what kind of despair lay behind that heavy stone door.

Without the slightest hesitation, he used all his strength to push open the heavy iron door and rushed out into the gray twilight, which smelled strongly of the sea, as if he were fleeing.

As the last rays of the magnificent sunset disappeared behind the towering spires of Hogwarts Castle, the Great Hall was already brightly lit and bustling with activity.

Dinner had just begun, and the four long tables of the college were laden with a dazzling array of delicacies, their aroma filling the air.

There was more stew than usual tonight, and the steaming dishes chased away the chill from outside the castle.

The students sat together, the clinking of knives and forks, the gentle tapping of cups and plates, and the rising and falling laughter creating a noisy yet warm atmosphere.

Charles silently entered the dining hall through the main entrance, his gaze calmly sweeping across the bustling hall before finally settling precisely on the silver-bearded old man in the center of the professor's long table.

He nodded very slightly, but enough for Dumbledore to notice.

Dumbledore was holding a glass of mixed vegetable juice when his gaze briefly met Charles's.

His gentle smile remained unchanged, and he did not respond with any expression. Only his hand holding the cup paused almost imperceptibly for a moment, before he continued his low conversation with the solemn-looking Professor McGonagall beside him as if nothing had happened.

Charles remained calm and walked straight to the Gryffindor table, sitting down in the empty seat in front of Ruby, who had arrived earlier, and greeting his classmates.

As he ate, his gaze inadvertently swept across the two sides of the lively long table opposite him, keenly catching a glimpse of an unusual atmosphere.

Although Ron and Hermione sat side by side, there seemed to be an invisible ice wall between them. While both were talking to Harry, Ron treated Hermione as if she didn't exist.

Harry seemed to realize this as well, but for some reason he seemed hesitant and didn't offer any words of comfort.

Clearly, the two of them have had another argument, and Harry is probably powerless to do anything about it.

Charles calmly withdrew his gaze and began to focus on quietly enjoying his meal while feeding Phoenix.

He couldn't help but think that this might be adolescence.

“Charles, are you free later?” Hermione suddenly asked.

“No,” Charles shook his head, eating his beef stew with mushrooms. “I have some things to do tonight.”

Ginny, sitting diagonally across from him, asked with a mischievous grin, "Charles, you don't happen to have a date, do you?"

Charles asked in surprise, "How did you know?"

Meanwhile, in Azkaban, Podmore looked around at the ridiculously luxurious cell with its bathtub and even karaoke room, and was speechless for a moment.

(End of this chapter)